


No Ship Like Partnership: Iron Men

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-09-08
Updated: 2000-09-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 03:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11140545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Ray meets Fraser but despite the attraction he still can't shake the memory of Foster.





	No Ship Like Partnership: Iron Men

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

No Ship Like Partnership: Iron Men

## No Ship Like Partnership: Iron Men

by Lucy Britt

* * *

No Ship Like Partnership: Part 3: Iron Men by Lucy Britt 

Disclaimer - I don't own 'em and I'll promise I'll put them back when I'm done. Spoilers - Burning Down the House 

It had been hard but he'd done it. He couldn't very well had done anything else, not if he wanted to keep his job anyway. Why was it that the same shit kept happening to the same guy? First Stella and then Foster, okay so he'd only been close with the lieutenant a coupla weeks but he'd known him for a long time before that, known him and admired him and falling in love with him hadn't been such a big step to take. How could he have known how Foster would have reacted? How could he have known that his mentor, his lover, would kick him in the guts like that? The pain was so raw he couldn't deal with it, his body, his brain every part of him operating on auto-pilot, every part but his heart. That organ had been trampled all over far too many times for Ray's liking and he wasn't about to let it happen again. No sir, next time someone, anyone came along he was gonna treat them just as badly as he'd been treated, let someone else carry all this pain for a change. 

Of course today he had bigger problems. Today the Canadian, Vecchio's erstwhile partner, Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police who had first come to Chicago on the trail of the killers of his father, was coming home from vacation. It was part of the job, part of the deal of taking on Vecchio's life, covering for the guy while he went undercover with the mob, partnered with the Mountie and his dog. Yeah he could handle it, he was nervous he admitted that but his apprehension was entirely tied up with the thought of Foster. Everytime the phone rang Ray leapt a mile, his answer machine was most definitely out of a job. He just couldn't believe that the man was gone for good, was sure that Foster would get in touch, ring him up, say he was wrong, that he loved Ray every bit as much as Ray loved him and he was sorry for running out the other night but it had all been so unexpected. That he was sorry and he wanted to work things out, please could they try again? But the phonecalls were never from Foster and it was killing him and worse thoughts of Stella were starting to flow through his head, thoughts that he felt sure had been exorcised by Foster's touch and now he wasn't even sure who he wanted more - Foster or Stella? Stella or Foster? 

It wouldn't be a problem - all he had to do was get through the day, deal with the Mountie, jeez he might even have a go at dealing with the ever increasing pile of paperwork on his desk if he could get a spare five minutes to himself. Lieutenant Welsh he was glad to find was treating him just as he had treated Vecchio, or so Detective Huey had informed him, and that was good cos the last thing Ray needed right now was a repeat of what had happened with Foster. Things would be okay, Ray told himself with a determined lift of his chin as he slid his lithe body out of Vecchio's Riv, he had a good feeling about today. 

* * *

He'd never been more mistaken in his life, Ray reflected as he climbed out of the Riv and held the door, my God he was actually holding the door, for Fraser's wolf! It had been quite some day and Kowalski was just glad it was over. Mind you here the Mountie still was. He'd accepted Ray's invitation of coffee, although he had added that he didn't really drink coffee but a cup of herbal tea would do just fine thank you kindly, with alacrity and in just the same manner with which Ray had accepted the Mountie's earlier invitation to get something to eat. That meal had been a little awkward but they'd got through it okay. Their conversation had been light, inconsequential, neither revealing too much about himself. Understandable, Ray shrugged, they were both a little nervous around each other, both wondering about the other, how far could they each be pushed. Ray knew that the Mountie had trusted Vecchio implicitly, that they had both trusted each other implicitly, that sometimes, and this from Elaine and okay so it was obvious that she had the hots for the Mountie but she was nonetheless level headed enough that her opinions could be trusted, they had seemed more like one man than two. The weirdest thing was, well the weirdest thing after the fact that he actually believed that the cop and the Mountie had been practically joined at the hip, was that he was jealous. Somehow Kowalski doubted that he'd ever have that closeness with Fraser, he couldn't bring himself to call the man Benton, besides Fraser suited him better. Sure Fraser would try to appear as close to this new Vecchio as to the old, his friend's life depended on it after all, but it would never be more than an act and Kowalski was surprised by just how much that thought hurt, almost as much as trying to live without Foster. Ray bit his lip, he could still feel the man's touch, it just wasn't fair. 

"Ray are you all right?" 

The concern in the Mountie's voice made Ray's eyes open wide in surprise and then he realised that as usual he'd allowed his emotions to show plainly on his face, had always been a problem with Stella, being a district attorney she was well used to keeping her true feelings hidden. 

"Ray? Ray?" 

Kowalski dragged his thoughts away from his ex-wife and forced himself to concentrate on the man in front of him. Fraser really did look concerned, jeez even the wolf was staring at him. "I'm fine Frase," Ray forced a smile and locked the car door. "I'm just a little tired I guess, it's not every day that someone tries to blow you and your car up or that you then have to drive said car into Lake Michigan." 

"No it's not every day." The Mountie sounded thoughtful and Ray winced, wondering if Fraser were about to go off into some long-winded exposition about one of the many cases he and Vecchio had solved together. Not now Frase, he silently begged the Mountie, I don't think I could cope with it right now. 

"Thanks by the way for helping me out there.." Ray let his voice run out, embarrassed, too proud to admit to his new partner that he couldn't swim, thank goodness the lake hadn't been too deep or he would have really have been in trouble. Fraser moved away from the car, towards Ray's apartment block, letting his hand linger unconsciously on the bonnet for just the briefest of moments. Foster had had the exact same mannerism and suddenly the excitement of the day's events vanished as Ray was hit by a crippling wave of longing for his old lieutenant. 

Fraser found himself watching the slender blonde-haired man intently as he strode towards the apartment building. He noted the way Ray held himself, yes there was arrogance in his stride but a certain diffidence caught and held Fraser's attention. This man for all the overpowering brashness he liked to display was at heart a sensitive soul and Fraser was touched by the way he had tried so hard to conceal his pain from the Mountie. Something or more likely someone, Fraser observed accurately, had hurt Ray badly, so badly that it showed in every movement of his long graceful limbs. He longed to know what it was, what had put such hurt, such mistrust into those brilliant blue eyes but he would not ask. Fraser didn't ask, perhaps in time Ray would trust him enough to want to tell him, to volunteer the information to the sympathetic ears of his friend. Fraser almost stopped breathing, his friend. Was it possible that he would ever be able to call this man his friend? He'd seen the hurt on Ray's face when he'd thought Fraser was rejecting him. He hadn't known that Fraser had no idea who he was or what he was doing claiming to be Ray Vecchio so he must have felt mortally wounded by the way Fraser had been acting towards him all day. The Mountie groaned, he might just as well have turned round to Ray and said you're not good enough to be my friend right to his face, he doubted that it would have changed the wounded puppy dog look that had been on the man's face for most of the day. But that smile, Fraser would give anything to see that smile again. Who would have thought that a simple invitation to dinner would have produced such a radiant response. Yes he would do anything to see that smile again and that was why he was here, standing patiently, waiting for Ray, was that really his name? To find the keys to his apartment and let them both into the old building. 

There were, Fraser told himself sternly, other things to think about. Where he was going to spend the night for one, worry for Vecchio was there as well even though there was nothing he could do about that. And yet all these things faded into the background when he looked at the man now leading him up a narrow flight of stairs and along an even narrower corridor. Fraser tried to push the feeling fast rising in his gut away, not totally unexpected it still frightened him a little. If he was honest he'd admit that it frightened him a lot. It was one of the reasons why he'd always been the first one to volunteer for any assignments that meant spending long periods of time on his own and soon that, but thankfully not the reason for it, had become part of the legend. There had been a couple of men he'd been close to but the relationships hadn't lasted long. His job was too dangerous, too time intensive for him to make a full commitment to either of those men, no matter how much he had loved them. Fraser didn't want to face the fact that the real reason behind his lack of commitment was fear, fear that someone would find out about him, find out who he really was and worst of all tell the father whose approval he was so desperate for. 

Then he had come to Chicago and met Vecchio and wondered for a short time whether he could start something there but no, when he looked into the eyes of his partner all he ever saw was the regard for a friend and then of course Victoria had exploded back into his life, bringing with her all the feelings he'd felt before. All the feelings of fear, of loneliness that had made them cling to each other all that time ago, all the feelings that had made Fraser sure he was in love with her. Wasn't that what men did? Why should he be so different? 

"Hey Frase, you gonna sit down or what?" 

They were inside the apartment and Fraser let his legs collapse under him and for once the keen scrutiny he normally turned on everything failed him and he took in no details of the room where he sat. All he was aware of was the man standing before him twisting his hands uncertainly as though unsure what to do next. He was beautiful, there was no denying that fact and undoubtedly straight as well, Fraser didn't allow himself to have any delusions on that score. 

"So Frase, can I get you something to drink?" Ray sank down next to Fraser, so close that the Mountie could smell the man's shampoo and he fought to control himself. 

"I.." Fraser turned towards Ray to explain that he wasn't actually thirsty and then stopped. Two pairs of blue eyes stared into each other for what seemed an eternity until Ray suddenly pulled himself back, painfully aware that he had been about to kiss the Mountie. 

"So do you reckon Dief's thirsty?" Ray glanced over at the wolf who was lying resignedly across the entrance to Ray's cubicle-like kitchen. 

"I'm sure he wouldn't say no." Fraser glanced across at Diefenbaker, carefully avoiding Ray's gaze and the cop mentally kicked himself. Look what you've done, he chided himself, he knows who you are and he doesn't like it. 

"Right," Ray spoke out loud and edged towards the kitchen, careful to keep a reasonable distance between himself and Fraser, "well I'll see what I've got." Searching his cupboards for a suitable dish to present Dief's milk in Ray couldn't believe his own stupidity. Practically throwing himself at the Canadian like that was not smart. Way to go Kowalski, keep this up and he'll start avoiding you all together and that's not going to help Vecchio's cover any. And that was the crux of the matter when all was said and done, that Ray's job was to take over Vecchio's life and from all he'd heard Kowalski was pretty damn sure that Vecchio would never have even considered doing the horizontal lambda with Fraser, neither of them would have. 

Finally he settled on a large soup plate, it was a hideous piece of china, white with brash wild flowers rioting across its surface and Ray hated it. It had been part of a set of china given to Stella for her eighteenth birthday by an ancient aunt and Ray had broken every single piece of it, every piece but the soup dish, one night coming home drunk after a celebration following the successful closure of a case. Stella had given it to him after their divorce and Ray had accepted it for the rebuke it was meant to be. For the first six months he had kept it in full view and even now when he had found the courage to shut it away he still couldn't quite bring himself to throw it away. It represented something, all the times he'd done something stupid, all the times Stella had thrown her arms up in disgust at his behaviour and banished him to sleep in the spare room and now it represented something else, his almost having made a move on the Mountie - now that really did have to qualify as the stupidest thing he'd ever done. 

"Ray?" 

"Jesus!" Ray jumped half a mile and the soup dish flew almost gracefully out of his hand and smashed against the fridge. Ray couldn't take his eyes off the pieces on the floor, it was some kind of sign he felt sure, he just didn't know what it was a sign of exactly. 

"Ray are you okay?" Fraser was staring at his partner with startled blue eyes. He should have known better than to touch the blonde detective. 

"Yeah I'm fine," Ray turned to smile at Fraser and the Mountie relaxed a little, crouching down to gather up the shattered pieces of pottery. Ray crouched down next to him and their hands closed simultaneously over one of the larger fragments and once again Fraser found himself being drawn into Ray's blue eyes and to hide the need that was threatening to consume him he coughed and rubbed one nervous finger across an eyebrow. 

"I hope it wasn't expensive." 

"Naw, I never liked it." Ray responded with a quick grin that faded as soon as he met Fraser's eyes. 

"Good, I'm glad I didn't.. didn't.." What was wrong with him? Fraser didn't normally stammer and stutter like this, he was never usually short of something to say. "You know perhaps it's time I left. We've both had a long day after all." Was that a look of relief he saw on Ray's face, relief no doubt that Fraser was going to leave and the cop would no longer have to worry about fending off a pass. "I'll be going then." Fraser picked up his hat and Diefenbaker obediently raised his head, watching his master, sensing as surely as Ray must be Fraser's uneasiness. 

"See you tomorrow?" Ray asked casually, moving towards the door, obviously anxious to see Fraser out of his apartment. But as Fraser was searching for some non committal answer the phone rang and Ray turned away to answer it. Fraser watched intently, he saw Ray's hand shake as he went to pick up the receiver, saw the look of hope on his face as he raised it to his ear and suddenly Fraser wanted out of the apartment, that must be Ray's lover on the phone, probably even the woman who was responsible for the pain on his face, he didn't want to have to face this part of his new partner's life, not least because he wanted his partner for himself. 

"Oh.. hi Mom," Fraser couldn't help but notice the way Ray's face dropped as he identified the caller. "yeah sure, could you just hang on a moment?" Then Ray turned to Fraser, "See you tomorrow?" 

"Of course." Fraser nodded, put his hat on his head and let himself out of the apartment. He closed the door behind him and stood for a few moments listening to the quiet murmur of Ray's voice, then reluctantly he tore himself away and with Diefenbaker at his heels walked slowly downstairs and out into the Chicago night. 

* * *

Ray sat up in bed, he was once again soaked through, even the sheets were wringing wet. He lay back carefully and fixed his eyes on the ceiling that he couldn't see but nevertheless knew was up there somewhere. He'd been having the nightmare again, the one in which the thugs forced him to kneel down and then put a gun to his head. But it had been different this time, this time instead of the face of his rescuer being lost in the shadows he had found himself staring into the blue eyes of Constable Benton Fraser who had leaned forward to kiss him, tasting him, feeling him... Ray pushed the thoughts out of his head. He couldn't think like that, not about his partner, it wasn't fair. The two had been working together for a week now and still knew relatively little about each other. The one thing that Ray was painfully aware of however was that every time he found himself holding eye contact with the Mountie just a little longer than was usual Fraser was always the first one to tear his eyes away almost as though he could see Ray's longing and it disgusted him. 

Ray sighed and swung his legs out of the bed, he needed a hot shower, things always looked better after a hot shower, never mind that it was only five am he'd just have to be early for work for once. Ray grinned, Welsh would think he'd been body-snatched or something. Yeah it was definitely worth getting into work early just for the look on Welsh's face. 

Dressed and with the first strong cup of coffee inside him Ray felt a lot better. As he climbed into the pool car he reflected that today might not be so bad after all. Fraser he knew was keen to spend the day apartment hunting which would give him some time to catch up on all that paperwork that Lieutenant Welsh seemed to think was so important. Of course Ray had offered to go with Fraser, that was what a friend would do, more importantly that was what Vecchio would do but Fraser had turned him down, no doubt anxious to spend as much time as possible away from his lovelorn partner as possible. It felt kinda weird but since Fraser had appeared on the scene Ray had found himself thinking less and less about Foster and when he did think about him the gaping chasm that consumed his mind at those times was practically non-existent. Fraser was fast exorcising his demons, every demon but his lust for a certain man who liked to spend a lot of his time dressed in red serge. 

It was only with that thought that Ray realised the car had ground to a halt. Ray swore loudly and glanced through the windscreen at the gradually lightening sky outside. The car was a heap of junk but after trashing the Riv he hadn't been given much choice in a replacement, not that the Riv had been any better mind you. Shivering he climbed out and half-heartedly kicked one of the wheels, he was still twenty five blocks away from the 27th, oh well might as well get walking. 

It was cold, the chill air of the morning ate straight through Ray's clothes and into his bones. Involuntarily Ray shivered, stopping to pull up the hood of his sweatshirt and then he moved on. Dammit but he couldn't stop thinking about Fraser, he still knew so little about him and the tantalising glimpses of the man behind the uniform were all too few and far between. Most of the time Fraser appeared to be Mr Perfect Upright Mountie but Ray knew there had to be more to the man than that. Most people treated him as though the front was really him, Elaine, Welsh, Jack Huey and especially Ray's 'sister' Frannie but Ray refused. He was going to draw the man out, find out what he was really like if it killed him. "And if Frase ever finds out exactly what kinds of thought I've been having about him," Ray muttered wryly, "then he'll probably kill me." 

The thought wasn't encouraging and Ray started to stride out as though he could leave his thoughts behind him when the sound of a gunshot ringing out stopped him dead in his tracks. An instant later Ray's own gun was in his hand and he was sprinting towards the corner of the street. Too late, all he saw was a figure running away leaving a broken and bloody body behind. 

"Dammit!" The cop swore and tucked his gun away, leaning down over the body to check for a pulse, nothing. "That's what you get for harbouring immoral thoughts about your partner," he berated himself as he groped inside his jacket for his cell phone. 

The crime reported all Ray could do was wait for his fellow Police officers to arrive. He paced intently, taking note of where the bullet had lodged itself in a wall, the pattern of blood across the concrete, the one blurred footprint where the killer had been hiding. There was something lying on the ground, fluttering, a scrap of paper. Almost without thinking Ray pocketed it, tracing his steps back alongside the building just in time to see a squad car pulling up near by. 

"Vecchio." Huey leapt out. "What the hell happened here?" But Ray couldn't answer him, his attention was completely claimed by the pair of legs climbing out of the car. It was Fraser. 

"Frase?" Ray moved towards the Mountie as though drawn by an invisible string and oblivious to Huey's presence he reached out and touched the man's red serge clad shoulder as though to ensure himself that it really was his partner. 

"Good morning Ray." Fraser smiled brightly, all the time conscious of Ray's hand touching him and anxious to do anything to prolong the contact, the only trouble was he couldn't think of anything. All he did do was to lean into the almost-caress and breathe a barely audible sigh when the contact ended. 

"What are you doing here?" Ray sounded impatient and Fraser smiled, he was fast getting used to the ever-changing moods of his new partner and he found them quite fascinating. 

"I was having difficulty sleeping," Fraser explained, adding silently to himself, because I couldn't stop thinking about you, "so I wandered along to the 27th, I thought you might be there." Fraser scowled as he noted the wistful tone his voice had taken on and immediately pulled himself straight. Ray's presence was intoxicating but there had been a crime committed here and surely his first responsibility was to the law. The Mountie clearly saw the hope in Ray's blue eyes but it died away as soon as the scowl appeared on Fraser's face and the Canadian drew himself back, all too aware of his partner's eyes on his back as he moved towards the body. 

"Did you see anything?" Huey asked Ray pulling a notebook out of his jacket. Fraser listening with one ear while scanning the murder scene, running his fingers over the uneven ground, he didn't bother trying to dig the bullet out of the wall but he noted the angle with which it had entered the wall, the small amount of dust that had gathered on the ground below and almost without noticing he was talking out loud he turned and said, "so the shooter was over there." 

"I didn't see much by the time I got here the perp was too far away for me to get a clear look at him." Fraser could hear Ray's voice rising, the man was obviously becoming agitated by Huey's insistence that Ray must have seen something that would give them a clue to the killer's identity. 

"Come off it Vecchio.." 

Fraser could hear the slight stress on the detective's assumed name and he winced, crouching down next to the body. Well-dressed, the man must have been on his way to work. His wallet was still concealed in his jacket and his watch was still on his wrist so the murderer hadn't been looking to rob the victim. What then? Fraser had never come across a murder without a motive of some sort. Then something caught his attention, it was a small piece of cloth, a different colour from the suit the victim was wearing. Fraser carefully peeled it away from the brick on which it had become caught and rubbed it thoughtfully between thumb and forefinger, raising it to his nose, letting his delicate olfactory senses help with the analysis. "Hmm." 

"Frase," Ray sounded mightily pissed off and obediently Fraser raised his head, anxious to avoid having any of Ray's anger directed towards him. "Time to get going," Ray shot a quick glance at Huey who pretended not to notice, "file a report, get a cup of coffee, stuff like that." 

Fraser didn't argue, it was obvious that something had happened between the two detectives but it wasn't his place to interfere. Except that hurt little-boy-lost look had crept back into Ray's eyes as he turned to climb into the squad car and Fraser couldn't stop himself from reaching out to the man, just a hand on the shoulder but the spark that flew between them at the contact made him yank it away again. 

It was all Ray could do to keep the car going in a straight line, Fraser's hand on his shoulder that was all he could think about. He even forgot about the small scrap of paper he had pocketed at the murder scene. His heart was thumping so hard he was sure Fraser could hear it and he kept stealing little looks at the Mountie seated beside him but Fraser's expression never changed, almost as if the man were wearing a mask. Perhaps he had misinterpreted the gesture, perhaps it had just been a sign of partnership, a sort of unspoken 'whatever you say Ray', that was one way to explain it. Perhaps he had imagined that moment of connection with the Mountie but it had felt so real, so good like when they finally remove the plaster from a broken leg and you get the chance to actually scratch the limb for the first time in weeks. But was that all this was, an itch needing to be scratched? He was still in love with Foster, Ray's eyes fluttered with sudden grief and he felt an unexpected tear creep down his cheek. That was the truth how could he even think of trying to deny it and if he were still in love with Foster then what exactly did that make his obsession with Fraser? Did he really feel anything for the man or was it all just classic rebound stuff like what had happened after Stella had left him when he'd fucked anything that moved? Ray just didn't know the only thing that he was sure of was that he should keep himself as far away from Fraser as possible until he sorted his head out, it wasn't fair on the Mountie to do it any other way, wasn't fair on either of them. Ray stopped the car, still a couple of blocks away from the 27th he just couldn't go any further. 

"Ray? Ray? Ray?" Fraser couldn't tear his eyes away from the cop slumped in the driver's seat, blonde head hanging limply just above the wheel. He'd seen the tear and it had made him wonder exactly what thoughts were running through the man's head but it wasn't his place to ask. 

"I'm fine Frase," but Ray didn't look at his friend when he answered and Fraser had to bite his tongue to stop himself from there and then confessing everything he felt for his new partner. His inquisitive eyes could see that there was some kind of a battle raging inside Ray but he couldn't have guessed at what that battle was. "I'm gonna go home." That was a shock and Fraser instinctively reached out to stop Ray from unbuckling his seat belt. 

"What about your report?" 

"What report? I didn't see anything Frase." 

"But you should go to work." 

"I'm sick," Ray retorted quickly, the fire in his eyes telling Fraser that arguing would not be a good idea. "Tell Welsh... tell Welsh," Ray threw up his hands is disgust. "Tell Welsh whatever the hell you want." 

Fraser nodded. "All right Ray. Do you want me to come with you?" There was no way of hiding the concern in his voice, he didn't actually want to. 

"Naw I'll be fine," and then Ray was gone, striding away from the car as though all hell's minions were after him. Now it was Fraser's turn to slump in his seat, what had just happened? It seemed pretty obvious that Ray couldn't wait to get away from him and Fraser gasped as the icy cold stake of rejection drove through his heart. He wasn't sure what to do next, there was little point in returning to the 27th now Ray was no longer with him and so Fraser resolved to go back to the consulate. Dief at least would approve of his plan, the wolf had been none too impressed when Fraser had informed him that he was going out and that the wolf was not invited along. Truth be told Fraser had desperately wanted some time alone to think about Ray without having to suffer all those little knowing looks that Diefenbaker so loved to throw at him. 

As he walked Fraser couldn't help but let his mind run over the events of the morning, it was a process that happened almost without his having to think about it but right now he noticed because there was something about this whole situation that bothered Fraser. He believed that Ray hadn't seen anything, that the cop had been taken by surprise by the whole shooting incident but something felt wrong and he just couldn't work out what it was exactly. 

"So when are you going to tell him?" 

"Dad!" It was the last thing Fraser wanted, advice from his father. "Can't you go away, I'm busy." 

"You don't seem very busy son." 

"Appearances can be deceptive." Fraser Sr just smiled and continued to walk alongside his son, effortlessly keeping pace. "And when am I going to tell who what?" 

"I think you know." 

"Let's assume," Fraser spat, annoyed by the condenscion in his father's voice, "that I don't." 

"The Yank," Fraser Sr's voice took on a long suffering tone. "When are you going to tell him how you feel?" 

"I have no particular wish," Fraser explained patiently, "to see how fast Ray can run." 

"What makes you think he'd run away?" 

"Dad!" Fraser exclaimed in disgust but his father had vanished and with a sigh Fraser turned his footsteps towards the consulate once more. 

* * *

Ray sat in his apartment not moving a muscle. He was still wearing his outdoor jacket, still struggling to come to terms with the thoughts whirling around in his head. Then he remembered the piece of paper he had found earlier that morning and more out of idle curiosity than any other emotion he pulled it from his pocket. It was a relatively small piece of paper and had obviously been torn from a notebook, there was something familiar about the feel of it between his fingers and Ray grinned as he realised that he was starting to think like Fraser. The grin soon vanished when Ray saw inscribed across the paper in a spidery script that was horribly familiar, his phone number. Ray closed his eyes, shook his head violently enough to start his temples throbbing and then took another look at the paper. It still bore his phone number written out in Foster's handwriting and that meant that Foster was the perp, Foster who had stood and shot a man in broad daylight. 

Ray started to shake, his whole body convulsing and it took a considerable effort to pull himself to his feet and stagger over to the kitchen. A box of matches lay beside the hob and he reached out one hand for them hardly able to credit what he was about to do, destroying evidence. Ray started shaking again - there was really nothing else he could do. His other hand stretched out for a cereal bowl that had been set to drain next to the sink and in a dreamlike trance Ray moved out of the kitchen and sunk down onto the sofa again. 

There was no other choice. Quickly, afraid that even a moment's hesitation would enable him to reflect on what exactly it was that he was doing, Ray dropped the scrap of paper into the cereal bowl and threw a lighted match down next to it. He didn't move again until the ashes had turned cold and then he leant his head back and closed his eyes. 

A hard rapping on his front door roused him, he didn't know how much later and staggering slightly the blonde cop moved across to the door. 

"Fraser," he should have been pleased to see his partner, at any other time he would have been but now? What would the straighter-than-straight Mountie say if he knew what Ray had done? 

"Ray." Fraser deliberately manoeuvred himself around his friend, noting but totally misunderstanding the guilty look on Ray's face. "I was..." Fraser realised he couldn't finish the sentence, knew nervous fingers were clutching convulsively at the brim of his Stetson and he forced himself to breathe, willing himself to calm down, to relax. "I came to check you were all right," Fraser paused his gaze falling onto the coffee table and the bowl lying there, "You seemed.. distracted earlier." 

"I'm fine," Ray hesitated, "thank you. I just wish I could have done something." 

Fraser nodded, he'd expected this. He'd read Ray's file after all, knew exactly how often his partner had placed himself in the line of fire to defend another. "You can do something Ray," quizzical blue eyes prompted Fraser to continue. "You can help bring the killer to justice." Impassively the Mountie watched the conflicting emotions criss-cross Ray's face. "You're a good policeman Ray," Fraser's brow furrowed as he realised that nothing of what he was saying was getting through. 

"Ray.." but Fraser broke off whatever he had been about to say when his nose picked up a familiar and yet elusive scent. Moving closer to the table Fraser knew that the smell was rising from the bowl of ashes but as he was stretching one hand out towards it he saw Ray's face twitch and suddenly he remembered where he had smelled that particular aroma before. 

His face carefully blank Fraser moved away from the sofa not quite sure what to think. Why would Ray destroy evidence? Fraser had no doubt whatsoever that whatever those ashes had been had come from the scene of the morning's shooting. What should he do? Had Ray somehow been involved in the shooting? No impossible. Fraser shook that possibility from his mind. Ray was a good cop, more than that he was a good man. 

The ring of the telephone made both men, caught up with their own thoughts jump and Ray stretched out a hand to answer it. "Vecchio." Watching intently Fraser saw an almost helplessly longing look appear on his partner's face and heard the quiver in the voice as the identity of the caller was confirmed. "Foster. I didn't, I wouldn't... Yeah sure come round now, I.." but the phone went dead in Ray's hand. 

"Fraser.." 

But the Mountie was already backing towards the door. "I have to get back to the Consulate Ray. I'll see you tomorrow." Fraser closed the apartment door behind him and hastened down the stairs. Once outside however he concealed himself in a shadowy corner, waiting, needing to know who the man Ray had been talking to was. 

Twenty minutes later a sleek dark car with a powerful engine drew up outside the apartment block and an elegantly suited man, possibly around ten, fifteen years older than Ray climbed out. He glanced around himself almost nervously and the moved towards the door into the apartments. As he strode past Fraser's hiding place the Mountie noticed that one corner of the very expensive jacket was torn and so with a thoughtful expression on his face Fraser settled back to wait and watch. 

* * *

Foster didn't give Ray a chance to speak. His hands were all over the younger man, tearing at his clothes. "I," Foster growled in a voice that made Ray's knees go weak, "am going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before." 

The two men never made it to the bedroom. Foster pushed Ray down onto the floor of his lounge and without waiting for any sign that this was actually what Ray wanted he forced himself on the man. Ray could barely breathe, sprawled on his stomach with Foster on top of him, thrusting into him, ignoring Ray's whimpers of pain, ignoring the fact that his one-time subordinate was struggling to get away from him. 

Eventually Foster shuddered and came. As he withdrew he let his fingernails bite down into Ray's backside making the younger man cry out in pain once more. "So," businesslike already Foster pulled Ray into a sitting position and fixed his cold green eyes on the pale face. "You were there this morning." 

"Sir?" Even after everything that had happened the habit was just ingrained too deeply to be broken. "You saw me," Foster said, "this morning." 

"I'm not sure what I saw," Ray stammered. "I don't know who shot that man." 

"Just as long as that's understood." Foster smiled, it had been worth coming here after all, he should have known that Kowalski's infatuation with his lieutenant wouldn't die away over night and now he'd found a way to use that. "Well time to go." 

Foster stood up and pulled his pants closed while Ray stared at him wildly. "You're leaving?" 

"Don't worry Kowalski, I'll be back," Foster almost purred as he pulled Ray closer towards him and saw the light of infatuation in those blue eyes, "I'll definitely be back." 

Foster let himself out of the apartment but he failed to see Fraser watching him as he pulled away. 

* * *

It hadn't been hard tracking the lieutenant down but knowing what he was going to say when the man appeared at his door was another matter entirely. Fraser wasn't entirely sure that he should be here but a crime had been committed and so it was his duty to speak to those involved. Fraser would never admit it to himself but there was of course an another motive entirely to coming here. He had seen the look on Ray's face when he'd taken the phonecall from Foster. Knew that the two men must have been lovers, knew that it was Foster who had left that expressive face so full of pain that Fraser, normally so calm and in control, could feel his hands clenching into fists. 

"Yes?" There was a sparkle of interest in Foster's eyes as he contemplated the Mountie standing at his door. 

"May I come in Lieutenant Foster?" Fraser kept his voice calm, he must not give this man the upper hand. 

"I'm afraid I'm rather busy at the moment." 

"I'm a friend of Ray's." This information elicited a response just as Fraser had been sure it would and Foster stood to one side, allowing Fraser into his apartment. 

Foster watched the Mountie moving into his apartment and suddenly something clicked. "You must be the Mountie, Benton Fraser, Vecchio's partner." 

Fraser nodded. "I came round to see you Lieutenant because I wanted to ask why you visited Ray today." 

"Well that's an easy one, I fancied a fuck and knew Ray would oblige." 

The sentence raised a number of conflicting emotions in Fraser. Anger that this man could talk about his Ray so casually and jealousy that Foster had succeeded where Fraser had not even dared to step foot. 

"So you didn't want to talk to him about this morning then?" 

"This morning?" Foster was feigning ignorance but the Mountie could see the anxiety and fear in his eyes. 

"You were both at the scene of the shooting." 

"How do you know I was there?" Foster demanded, all thoughts of being careful going out of his head. 

" I found this," Fraser produced the scrap of cloth he had retrieved, "and the corner of your jacket is torn." 

"You think you're so smart," Foster growled, "that's no proof that I pulled the trigger." 

Fraser smiled. "I'm well aware of that sir but I just needed to confirm that it was you that Ray saw this morning." 

"Get out," Foster was shaking with rage, his face turning purple. "Get out and take your accusations with you." 

"As you wish." Fraser turned and left the apartment, he was convinced now that Foster had been the killer, of course he had no real proof but at least now he could understand why Ray had acted the way he had. But as the Mountie emerged out into the sunshine he pushed away the other piece of information that he had learnt, the news that Ray was homosexual. It meant nothing after all, it certainly didn't mean that Ray was going to want to jump into bed with him. 

* * *

Ray was just putting the finishing touches to a cup of coffee when a hard demanding knock came on his front door. Maybe it was Fraser, Ray thought hopefully, as he dropped the last of the candies into his mug, and hurried over to answer the door. 

But it was Foster instead, a livid enraged Foster who pushed Ray out of the way and practically slammed the door behind him. 

"You told him didn't you?" despite his obvious anger Foster's voice was controlled. "You told that Mountie that I was in the alley, that I shot that guy." 

"No, I swear I didn't," Ray was backing away from Foster, shaking his head. What was going on? What had brought Foster back to his apartment so soon and in such a temper? 

"Don't lie to me Ray. I know when you're lying to me." Foster regarded Ray who was now backed against a wall. "I'm going to have to teach you a lesson aren't I? Teach you not to go around blabbing to strangers." 

"I didn't.." Ray protested but it went unheard as Foster had already closed the gap between them and was reaching out for Ray. 

But what really made the blonde man shake was the way all Foster's rage seemed to drop away and he was suddenly totally in control. "Do you want me to hurt you?" Foster asked. "If I hurt you will that teach you to keep your mouth shut?" 

Ray was shaking his head but Foster's first blow had already landed, knocking Ray off his feet. and the blows kept coming, Ray tried to defend himself but he couldn't get away from Foster. He could feel the blood, thick and warm trickling down his face, taste it in his mouth and the almost metallic flavour made him want to gag. By the end of just ten minutes Ray was so bruised that he hardly felt Foster's forced entry into his body. He could feel consciousness fading away and he fought to hold on to it, using the pain that swept through him each time Foster thrust deeper into him. And so it was that he faintly heard Foster mutter, "Remember this Ray, remember that I'm the one in control here," before he slipped into the blessed darkness that awaited him. 

* * *

How long he lay there he didn't know. All he did know was that when finally he forced his swollen eyes apart it was to see Fraser's concerned face bending over his. 

"What happened Ray?" 

Ray shook his head, mustn't tell Fraser. "Nothing," he muttered, "nothing happened. I think I must have fallen." 

"Was it Foster? Did he do this to you? Your landlady said she heard a struggle and then saw him leaving." 

Ray tried to pull himself upright but Fraser was holding him down and he was so horribly weak. "Foster.. he was only trying to make me see something." 

Fraser's eyes were cold. "And he had to beat you and then rape you to do this?" 

"You don't understand," Ray gasped, "my fault.... Foster.. I love him." 

Ray cried out half in pain, half in fear as Fraser dragged him to his feet and half-carried him to the bedroom where he stood Ray in front of the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door. 

"Look at yourself," he entreated, "Ray would a man who loved you do this to you." But Ray couldn't focus on the mirror, couldn't see how badly Foster had beaten him, couldn't see the blood caking his face, the blood on his legs or the concern on Fraser's face. 

"You need to go to a hospital." Fraser let Ray gently down onto the bed. 

"No. No hospitals," Ray was adamant, they'd ask too many questions, make him think about things. 

"Then will you at least let me clean you up?" Fraser asked gently, all he really wanted to do right now was go out, find Foster and make him pay for what he'd done but Ray needed him more right now. The emotion was startling. Fraser had almost forgotten what it was like, this intense personal need to protect, hadn't felt like this since... but no, that had been another time. 

"Foster I need him." Ray stuttered out the words, all feelings for his new partner had been obliterated by the lieutenant's visit. Ray wanted Foster. 

"He hurt you Ray," Fraser spoke slowly, wondering was there possible some kind of concussion here that would help explain Ray's mumblings. 

"My fault, wouldn't do it again. Not a violent man." 

There was a lump in Fraser's throat. "Ray sometimes people who like to hit, they just like to hit." 

"Go 'way Fraser." Ray was starting to sound angry now, "I'll be fine. Go back to your wolf and I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Ray.." 

"Go." 

There was steel in Ray's voice and so Fraser obediently turned and left, what else could he do? Later he would wish that he had stayed but now he found himself reluctant to push himself on this man who was so very obviously still in love with someone else. As he walked down the street Fraser's heart sank, how much longer was this likely to go on? How much longer could he work with a man that he so desperately wanted but could never have? Yet even as these thoughts ran through his head Fraser realised he couldn't back out of this now. Even if Ray never changed his mind, even if Ray never stopped loving the man who had beaten and abused him in his own home, Fraser would be there for him, always. 

The End 

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